


You Heard it First From Charlie

by WreakingHavok



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Also I know jack shit about radios, Apocalypse, Charlie live-blogs the apocalypse, Gen, I AM SO SORRY I KEEP FORGETTING TO PUT THIS IN THE TAGS, I don’t roll like that :], Inspired by 2012, NOBODY IS GOING TO DIE I PROMISE!!!!!!, if I want Connor eats pants in Boston then he’s in Boston, nobody dies!!!!!!!, suspend your disbelief as to how good of friends these fuckers are, the movie where the world goes to shit, this might be a fantasy au at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/pseuds/WreakingHavok
Summary: “Stressed about the move?” Charlie asks.“Yeah. I guess. Mostly just worried about how I’m gonna live more than a week with you as a roommate.”It’s a joke, so Charlie laughs. “Man, I get it. It’s a long way from home for me, too.”“Yeah,” Schlatt says. His voice cracks. “Yeah. At least I’ll have you guys, though. I’ll be fine.”“Right,” Charlie says. “We’ll be fine.”Schlatt’s quiet. The blinds rustle again. “It’s fuckin’ snowing,” comes his broken voice. “Charlie.”“I know,” Charlie swallows. “I -““It’s July,” Schlatt says. “God, Charlie. It’s July.”~The world ends, and Charlie buys a radio.
Relationships: Charlie Dalgleish & Jschlatt, Charlie Dalgleish & Ted Nivison, Cscoop | Cooper & Traves | Travis, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 145
Kudos: 200





	1. buzzcut season, anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is a repost, but I have swapped out a few people from the original. I was lying in bed last night and really just missed this group of people and this story, so! So. I am working on the last chapter, thank you all for your patience <3
> 
> Title chapters from Buzzcut Season by Lorde.

_always remember, folks. you heard it first from Charlie._

~

Schlatt’s in New York. Noah’s in New Jersey. Ted’s with one Connor E. Pants on a housing tour, showing the man around Boston. Cooper and Travis are in California. Josh is in a hotel somewhere in between them, taking a break from things.

Charlie knows this, objectively, but he doesn’t think about it all that often. Why would he? 

Charlie’s in Virginia. Amazing! Locations don’t matter much, these days, and the only one Charlie cares about right now is California.

He’s road-tripping this summer, just him and Route 66 and a whole lot of junk food. He’s thinking about that, mostly. See, they’re moving in together, he and the boys, as they say. Been in the works for months. There’s a house in Cali with their names on it, quite literally.

And Charlie’s got a plan to get there. What could go wrong?

(Warning number one. In June, half of Japan floods. Charlie streams for charity relief and feels like the danger couldn’t be further away.)

~

_Schlatt’s in New York._

“It’s snowing,” Schlatt grumbles to him over the phone. “The hell is it snowing?” 

Charlie frowns. “That is strange.”

Schlatt’s voice gets muffled as he leans away, accompanied by the tell-tale rustle of a blind. “-fuckin’, white shit. Comin’ down like bullets. It’s July.”

Plan a route from Virginia to California. From his parents’ home to his new home. Simple, thanks to satellites and his state of the art gaming setup.

But it feels pointless, for some reason, and that’s making it hard to concentrate. There’s something more important he should be doing, he knows it, feels it in his ribs. His chest tingles like his bones are made of copper. 

Charlie rubs his eyes and shakes his head, scrolling a little further down on Google Maps. “Wack.”

Schlatt snorts. There’s a little bit of static from his end. “Since when do you say wack?”

“Since when does it snow in July?” Charlie blinks. He’s unfocused his vision again. 

“Hey,” Schlatt cuts back in, “unrelated - unrelated, but.”

“Yeah,” Charlie hums. He’s almost through Colorado. He wonders if he has time for a stop by the Grand Canyon. Maybe the Hoover Dam.

“Have you been feeling weird, lately?” Schlatt asks, and there’s a wobble in his tone Charlie’s never heard before. 

Charlie puts down his pencil. “No,” he says, and convinces himself he doesn’t know it’s a lie.

Schlatt’s quiet for a second or two. “Okay. Yeah, no, it’s probably just -”

“Stressed about the move?” Charlie asks. 

“Yeah. I guess. Mostly just worried about how I’m gonna live more than a week with you as a roommate.”

It’s a joke, so Charlie laughs. Where was he, again? Nevada? No, Colorado. “Man, I get it. It’s a long way from home for me, too.”

“Yeah,” Schlatt says. His voice cracks. “Yeah. At least I’ll have you guys, though. I’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Charlie says. “We’ll be fine.”

Schlatt’s quiet. The blinds rustle again. “It’s fuckin’ snowing,” comes his broken voice. “Charlie.”

“I know,” Charlie swallows. “I -“

“It’s July,” Schlatt says. “God, Charlie. It’s July.”

~

He’ll drive from home to Cali. Better than paying for a moving truck, he’d assured his mother. More fun than a plane, he’d muttered to Grace. 

He can take his time, relax from work for a while, get his thoughts in order before the grind starts back up with a vengeance. That had gotten Grace on his side. 

Grace. She’d been right. How different would it have been, if he stayed with her? 

(Warning number two. South America bursts at the seams, their mountains crumbling, seas surging up from their beds. Machu Picchu is destroyed. Charlie streams for charity relief and ignores the similar warnings starting to come through on the news.)

~

_Noah’s in New Jersey._

“Yeah, it’s been weird around here,” Noah says, nonchalant as always. 

Stream’s going well. He’s playing CS:GO with Cooper, Noah, and Connor. Chat scrolls by lazily, happily, laughing at Charlie’s brief moments of incompetence. He ignores the donations coming through about how much his content is helping people through the uncertain times and convinces himself he’ll read them out later.

“Yeah?” Connor asks, immediately followed by a disappointed exhale. Charlie’s screen flashes red. “Dammit!”

“Weather’s all jacked. Schlatt says it’s happening in New York, too. All up the east coast.”

“Huh,” Charlie says. Noah sounds calm about it, just vaguely interested, but that doesn’t mean anything. 

“The other day, they said we should look out for earthquakes. In New Jersey.”

Cooper laughs. “That’s funny.”

Noah echoes him almost perfectly. “Right? I told Schlatt, I said, we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s all going according to plan, dude.” Cooper shuffles with something, sets down a can with a clang. It rattles a little longer than Charlie thinks it should. 

”On our ends, maybe,” Noah grumbles. “Bastard’s still holed up in his apartment. I don’t know if he’s even packed, yet.”

Noah’s hiding behind miles of sky and wires. Charlie’s sure that he, too, sounds alright over Discord - it allows him to say, “He’s probably busy making snow angels.”

“Snow angels,” Connor snorts, but doesn’t sound amused. 

“He should get a move on,” Noah says like no one had spoken. “Earthquakes. Gotta outrun ‘em.”

“Running from earthquakes,” Cooper says dryly, “to California.”

Connor guffaws, a little louder than he probably should have. Over the line, Cooper’s can rattles again.

For a moment, then, Charlie feels the world around him tremble with a pained inhale. His breath catches in his chest. His vision drifts from the monitor.

He snaps it back just in time to see his character get shot. He’s never been so happy to die.

Connor chastises him loudly and distractingly, chat goes feral, Cooper’s laughing, high-pitched, and it rings in his ears.

Stream’s going well. He can’t stop it now.

So Charlie cracks a pun.

So Charlie forgets about New York/NewJersey/earthquakes/snow in July.

And Charlie decides he should drink less caffeine, for it has to be his body that’s shaking and not the dirt beneath his feet.

~

The day before he leaves for his parents’ house, he takes apart his room, takes apart his equipment, hunts down stray belongings he’s scattered around his apartment, and packs it all up one box at a time. 

He sold his car and bought a van for this. Seven people to cart around, now, plus it’s a convenient way to fulfill his road trip dream. Plenty of space for the limited things he decided to bring. 

He’s not sure how he packed. Each item felt, in his hands, useless. His play buttons had barely made the cut. He’d only put them in the box when he remembered his background would look a little bare without them.

(The midwest issues tornado watches once a day. The west calls for shelter from dust storms larger than Wyoming. Warning signs. He misses every single one of them.)

His parents’ house is no different - childhood tokens he’d almost forgotten about, pictures, his hoodie he’s had since seventh grade.

While he’s packing, sometimes he finds himself drifting into the mindset that he’s never coming back. That this is it. Whatever he doesn’t put in the boxes, if he doesn’t herd his family into the van and take them along, he’ll never see them again.

(Maybe he hadn’t missed the warning signs, after all. It was snowing in July, after all.)

Stream equipment is swaddled in whatever clothes he didn’t think he’d need while driving, safely pinned in place by the boxes. He stares for a long time at his life, all nice and neat, how easily it fits in the back of his van. 

It’s an odd feeling. He shuts the trunk.

~

_Ted’s in Boston._

Charlie’s phone rings. It almost doesn’t wake him up.

“Charlie,” Ted yells into his ear as soon as he picks up. “Oh, God, thank God -“

“Ted?” Charlie blinks, rubs at his eyes enough to squint at his bedside clock. It’s four in the morning. “It’s four in the -“

“No one else would pick up, shit -” and Ted cuts out. Static buzzes in his place.

Charlie’s heart stops.

“Ted?” he barks, like if he screams louder it’ll work. “Ted? Are you okay?”

Silence. Oh, God. 

“Ted!” Charlie shouts.

Then the phone crackles, sparks, and the other side roars back to life with - “Fuck!” 

“Ted!” Charlie struggles to sit up, grasping his glasses with shaking fingers.

“I’m fine - Charlie, Charlie?”

“Ted,” Charlie says, heart erupting into his mouth. He tastes blood. “Ted, can you hear me? I’m here.”

“Oh God, Boston,” Ted sobs, like it’s the first breath he’s taken in hours. “Boston’s underwater.”

It cuts again. 

Boston’s underwater. 

“-barely gave us any warning, we’re driving like hell, _shit_ , Charlie, I -”

Boston’s underwater.

“Are you okay?” Charlie says, he whispers, he can barely force it out. “Ted, please -”

“We’re fine,” Ted chokes. “My - my family’s in Pennsylvania, my - I’m with Connor, we managed to - I don’t know. I don’t know about anyone else. 

“We’re driving,” and Ted’s crying now, harder than Charlie thinks is healthy. “The wave, I just barely, I -

“I don’t know what to do,” Ted mourns, “I saw it coming, Charlie. It -”

Charlie can’t talk. “Is there a place you’re supposed to go? When they warned you, did they -”

“Warning!” Ted howls. “There wasn’t a warning. There wasn’t - we got an alert that we had an hour. An hour. An hour, Charlie, and by the time we got to driving it was almost on us -

“I don’t know who to call,” Ted says. “I don’t know who got out. I don’t know where to go. Charlie. Charlie?

“Charlie,” Ted begs. “Please, are you there?”

Boston’s underwater.

Charlie can’t stay here any longer.

“Come to California,” Charlie says, rushed, shooting out of bed. “Go to California. I’m leaving tonight.”

He waits for Ted to answer. There’s nothing but silence. Not even static. 

The call’s been disconnected. Charlie involuntarily whimpers and clutches white knuckles against his heart.

Oh, shit.

Boston’s underwater. 

~

His family begs him to stay. They say the government’s releasing information about the end of the world. They say the continent is breaking apart. 

Grace begs him to join her - she’s flying to Africa with her family. They say it’s not going to flood. They say there are safehouses, there.

Charlie can’t. He could.

He doesn’t.

(Warning number three. The final one. He sees this one. He turns his back on it anyway.)

~

“I’m going down,” Josh tells him with a shaking voice. “I’ve got to. Cooper and Travis tell me things are getting real bad, down there - we can’t just leave them.”

“Why can’t they come to you?” Charlie begs, just to hear someone tell him what he already knows. “Why can’t they come to us?” 

“It’s not like the East Coast is better,” Josh snaps. “Noah told me he was driving out of state as soon as he could. He also told me Schlatt won’t pick up the phone. The country’s crumbling at both ends, Charlie.”

Charlie transfers his phone to one hand, picks up another empty gas can from the shelf, and dumps it into his shopping cart. It lands on top of more first aid supplies than Charlie ever thought he’d need and too many packs of bottled water. Countless other things litter the basket on his arm. He looks like a doomsday prepper.

Ironic, isn’t it? He was so woefully underprepared for doomsday.

“I’m doing it, too,” he admits softly. “I just wish - I just -”

“Cooper cut out mid-call, yesterday,” Josh says with a sigh. “They won’t pick up. The quakes are taking out cities, now.”

“Great,” Charlie says, tight. “That’s four dropped off the radar.”

“Ted?” Josh whispers after a beat of processing. “Shit, Ted, no. Charlie?”

Charlie swallows. “I don’t know.”

Josh is quiet. Charlie stares at the canned food and doesn’t move a muscle. 

“Okay,” Josh finally says. “I’ll see you there. Keep in touch.”

“Alright,” Charlie says, and prays he isn’t next.

~

His life is packed up into his van. Funny, now, that he feels more alive than he has in months. 

He tells Grace goodbye, and he starts to forget her voice almost as soon as he shuts the door.

He doesn’t stop anywhere, he drives for hours until he can’t see straight, he sleeps fitfully on the side of the road. He’s got too many miles to go. 

He has to get to California.

(Even though there’s one in his car, he has another radio, now, one that he can talk on. He buys it from a gas station in Illinois. Who knows how long the cell service will last?)

~

_Cooper and Travis are in California._

Charlie never makes it there, in the end.

He’s just passed the Missouri state border when he hears it over the radio. Yesterday, the announcer says, the entire state erupted along the fault line. Death toll in the millions. Destruction on a national scale.

California’s fallen into the ocean, no warning, no chance to escape. California is gone.

Charlie pulls over on the side of the road and thinks he might black out. 

The dust clouds and smoke are still ravaging their way across the desert, they say. Tidal waves are surging to replace the landmass, and a shaken sounding reporter describes the scene from a helicopter over the newest territory of the Pacific Ocean.

“The new chasms are completely flooded,” they say. The wind makes their words almost inaudible. “The - the water is quickly wearing away the land masses l-left, there’s a few chunks sticking up, out of the water, along the - coast. Rescue teams are searching for survivors before they, too, collapse. It’s not estimated to be more than - than -”

When the broadcast cuts out, Charlie screams.

Everything was in California. Cooper and Travis were in California. 

Charlie calls them, fingers fumbling the numbers a few times before he gets it right. It doesn’t even go through. 

He tries Noah. He doesn’t pick up. Schlatt goes straight to voicemail. Ted -

Charlie climbs with shaking legs back into his van and shuts the door. California’s gone.

Turning on the car, he notices with a cold detachment he’s running low on gas. He needs to stop soon. 

Where is he going, now? What does he do, now? 

The earth is shattering, call the people on the radio. 

Charlie rather feels like he’s shattered with it.


	2. shut my eyes to the song that plays

Cooper doesn’t want to leave California.

This is a problem, Travis thinks.

~

_Hello? Hello?_

_Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?_

_..._

_Really, Charlie? Do better._

_Try again._

_Hello. My name is Charlie. I’m twenty-two, I’m from Virginia._

_If there’s anyone out there - no, if this is even working, oh, God, what if it’s not working? What if I’m talking to myself in the back of my van eating Chex Mix out of a Tupperware?_

_..._

_That is what I’m doing. Whatever._

_It’s eleven p.m, I think, if my watch didn’t die while I wasn’t looking. I’m somewhere in Missouri. It’s sometime in August._

_Oh, shit. Is it my birthday? It might be my birthday._

_Hah, look at that! Happy birthday, Charlie._

_I don’t know if this is even working. It looks like it is. I hope it is. I guess I won’t really know, will I? My computer’s wrecked, now, but Mich- the guy I ran into in St. Louis said it would broadcast. If there’s any towers left, that is._

_I hope he’s okay. He was waiting for the evacuees from Hawaii. Apparently, the islands are set to blow any minute._

_I hope he’s okay._

_…_

_And California is gone. I’m sure you know that already._

_…_

_My phone’s almost dead. I didn’t bring my car charger. I’m too scared to use my laptop battery._

_No one would call me, anyway._

_..._

_Huh. Look at me. I don’t know what to say._

_Happy birthday, Charlie. You’re talking to yourself in the back of your van in the middle of goddamn nowhere._

_..._

_I’m looking at Twitter. Niagara Falls is filling up._

_God, I have to call -_

_..._

_Phone’s dead._

_Fuck._

_Happy birthday, Charlie._

~

The road outside their house has a crack in it. 

“It’s _not_ a problem,” Cooper grumbles over dinner. “We can still drive around it.”

“It goes through the yard,” Travis argues.

“It’s just part of the earthquake deal.”

“It’s big. I could fit both feet down it.”

“I was thinking of doing some tricks over it.”

“What if it splits further? In the next quake?”

“Then don’t fall in.” Cooper stands, slams his plate into the sink. “I’m going to stream. Don’t bother me.”

Travis doesn’t, and goes upstairs to do some background work on Animal Crossing. 

It’s only a few minutes later that he feels a quake starting. He curls up under his bed and hopes the ceiling stays up.

He notes that his village doesn’t shake with the house. He notes, jumping at the clatter, that his monitor has probably fallen over. He hastily pulls up Twitch and notes that Cooper seemingly hasn’t noted any of this. He’s still streaming. Behind him, one of his skateboards falls off the wall again. 

“Damn,” he sighs, barely giving it a second glance. “That’s the seventh time this week.”

It’s a small quake, thankfully, and soon the rumbling subsides without any more loud noises. Travis edges out from under the bed and dusts off his clothes. Looking up, there aren’t any cracks in the ceiling. Looking down - 

There’s one in the floor. He’s straddling it. 

He can see through the gap to the kitchen below. Oh, God. 

There’s plaster in the sink.

That’s it. That’s it. That’s _it_.

His limbs seem like they weigh tons as he navigates his way over the crack and winds a pathway around his room. Sometimes the floor creaks, and he freezes for a minute before he lets himself move again. He feels like he’s walking on ice. 

Back and forth, from his dresser to the hallway to his bed to the walls. He packs up everything he’s avoided bringing to the kitchen, box by box, until the small pyramid of five threatens to block off the stairs.

There are even more boxes in his room. He knows he won’t pack them. He’s almost surprised when he tells himself that - but not quite.

Half of the remaining items are useless things, trivialities he only keeps around to remind himself he has them. The ability to have and own, the proof of stability. It makes his stomach hurt. 

It’s all pointless when your house is falling apart and your garden drops off seven miles into the earth.

The other half he knows he simply can’t take. There’s only so much room, they can only carry what they need. He says goodbye to that half quietly, and when he closes his door the walls groan.

For the rest of the hour, Travis carries his things down the stairs and into Cooper’s car. His arms hurt by the time he gets it all secured in the trunk. 

The ground is shaking again. He slams the car door shut and buckles his seatbelt.

He sits in the passenger seat and watches a tree go down across the road. It barely misses a house. It makes a noise like a thunderstorm, and a family of birds desperately flies away from it. 

He wishes he could do that. He thinks briefly and wildly about stealing a plane.

In the air, the earth poses no danger to him. They could run away faster, safer. They should have run away a long time ago.

The newscasters have been saying this for weeks. Cooper wouldn’t listen to the newscasters. Maybe, Travis thinks hopelessly, Cooper will listen to him.

Time passes slowly. According to his phone clock, it’s been forty-five minutes by the time Cooper finally finds him.

“Oh my God, what are you doing out here?” Cooper snaps, hauling open the car door. “I’ve been looking for you for -”

“Put your stuff in the car,” Travis interrupts. 

“What?”

“We’re leaving.”

Cooper stares at him and comprehends his reasoning instantly and once again ignores it. 

Travis’s blood boils. 

“We’re moving in two weeks, not today,” Cooper says bluntly. “Get out of the car.”

“No.”

“Get out,” Cooper says, “of the -”

“No!” Travis shouts, bright and finally angry. Cooper reels back and runs into the car door. “There is a hole in the floor of my room, Cooper!”

Travis counts seven beats of his heart before Cooper starts breathing again. 

“So?” he whispers and clears his throat. “Been one in mine for a week.”

“You’re crazy,” Travis says wildly, “you’re crazy and dumb and you’re going to get me killed, us killed -”

“Nothing’s going to fucking kill us.” Cooper rights himself, that god-awful glaze in his eyes returning with a vengeance. 

“You’ve seen the news,” Travis fires back. “You know it! You do!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cooper shouts. 

It rebounds down the street. As it echoes back and slams into them, the first aftershock shakes Cooper to the ground. Travis claps his hands over his ears.

And it’s loud, this time. It’s not stopping, this time. It must be more than just an aftershock, this time.

The singular sound of wood breaking snaps through the air. Travis almost doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t think anything of it. 

He’s mostly thinking about how to use this quake as ammunition, he’s still angry. 

Cooper’s struggling to his feet, he’s shaking his hood off of his hair, he’s drawing in a breath to yell something over the earth’s crust tearing itself apart.

And then. And then.

Then.

~

_I’m driving to the Hoover Dam._

_I know they say you shouldn’t drive distracted, but does this really count? I’m just talking. Oh, oh, it’s like you all are my passengers. Travel companions._

_We’re currently driving through Colorado, guys! On your right, you will see sand. If you look to your left, there’s a red rock._

_Ha._

_Um, I’ve got enough gas in the tank to last me another couple hours, then I’ve got more in the gas cans. Oh, shit, I hope they don’t spill over on my clothes._

_Wait, wait. Give me a second. Shit._

_…_

_Okay, guys, I’m back. They’re better secured now. No worries._

_As I address the empty interior of my van yet again, let it be known I do realize there’s probably no one out there, listening. I don’t know, it just makes me feel better to act like there is. Easier to talk, too. It’s like recording a podcast, you know? Podcast._

_You gotta just roll with it._

_…_

_Sorry. Gimme another -_

_…_

_Sorry._

_Allergies._

_Um, what am I allergic to, you ask? Crushing loneliness! Ha, ha._

_No. I’m just kidding._

_I know no one’s asking._

_..._

_The, uh, Hoover Dam has been on my bucket list for a while. Nevada doesn’t seem to be too unruly right now, so I figured I better go while I still could._

_Aftershocks, they say. California only went down four days ago. But I think I’ll be fine. I’ve got gas, food._

_What more do I need?_

~

“-than a few dozen, if even that. Officials say the dust cloud, the debris cloud will reach neighboring states in less than a day, covering several thousand miles. Due to the. Unusually high winds. The aftershocks are slated, t-to -”

Cooper haphazardly slams his hand into the car radio. It splutters, changes channels, landing on a station that is currently broadcasting nothing but static. 

Oh, God. California is gone. 

They’re far enough away that they can’t see it, the ground under their feet merely quivering instead of ripping apart. Still, Travis worries. In the rear view mirror, he sees the dark line on the horizon. Ash and dirt. Dust and smoke. 

California. His home. His home, his home, his -

“Fuck!” Cooper screams, suddenly - 

The earth jerks -

The car lifts off the ground for a split second, they’ve hit something, they’re listing dangerously -

And then they slam to the ground again and bounce and keep driving. Travis exhales, shakily, pulls his hoodie over his head. 

The dust cloud follows them much faster than they can drive. 

“Shut your window,” Cooper says tightly. 

“Never opened it,” Travis says. “Broke.”

Cooper chances a look away from the cracked and broken road to decide this for himself. Sure enough, he eyes the shattered spiderweb hole and the wooden splinters still stuck in the glass and exhales an anxious sigh.

Funny, Travis thinks, that he has to see the damage before he believes it.

“I didn’t pack any of your stuff,” Travis says to break the buzzing of the radio static.

“I’m aware,” Cooper says. 

“I didn’t bring your good skateboard from the garage. I thought about it,” Travis says. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Cooper says.

“I bet my switch got busted,” Travis says.

“Stop,” Cooper howls, “talking about the fucking house! Stop talking about California, about how much we just fucking lost -”

He stops himself like a dog on a leash. It’s physical, the way he pulls himself down. 

“Where are we going?” he says, like he’d never raised his voice.

Travis looks away. The dust cloud is closer. The aftershocks are getting worse. The sky is darkening, and it is noon. “Why are you asking me?”

“You’ve got all the bright ideas.” It bites. It makes Travis angry again. 

He wants to say _I told you so._

He wants to say _I was right._

He wants to say _if we hadn’t left when the attic crashed into the basement, we’d be dead._

He wants to say _if we’d stayed, like you wanted, we’d be drowned in the Pacific._

He wants to say _if you had just listened to me -_

“Well?” Cooper growls. Dust starts to blow in through Travis’s broken window. Cooper turns on the headlights; they mostly illuminate the ashes and barely light up the road. 

Travis opens his mouth to answer him, and is mortified to find that all he can do is sob.

Cooper’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

And just like that, the sun disappears from the sky.

~

_Listeners._

_Weird word._

_S and a T right there, next to each other. ssssssstuh. Listeners. Do you say it lihst-en-ers? Or liss-en-ers?_

_Call in with your answers. Ha, ha._

_Listeners._

_…_

_…_

_..._

_I’m running low on battery power, but I wanted to thank you before I signed off. For - for pretending to be there, at least for today._

_Tomorrow, I run out of water. If I can’t find more -_

_My name is Charlie. I hope someone out there can hear me. My name is Charlie - if I don’t come back tomorrow -_

_Hah._

_Hah, who -_

_Who am I kidding?_

_Goodbye, listen-_

_Goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I miss Cooper and Travis so much. Quality duo
> 
> EDIT: HAHAHA I FEEL SO VINDICATED BY CHARLIE QUOTING THE PHONE GUY SPEECH ON HIS FIRST ORIGINS SMP STREAM


	3. we live beside the pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His time is mostly spent scrolling through Twitter, occasionally watching his friends stream. He ignores the bad news piling up in his phone. He tells himself he’ll catch up when things settle down.
> 
> _(Things do not settle down. The earth keeps shattering. He receives a note from the hotel management - they are shutting down in light of the warnings starting to come through._
> 
> _No one comes to evict him.)_

_Hey. Is this thing on?_

_I’m still here. I’m - I’m tired, it’s been a hell of a week, but I managed to find a town still standing. I got in, got what I needed, and left. I didn’t see anyone else the whole time. Part of me is glad about that - part of me knows what it has to mean._

_Towns are emptying. I haven’t seen any other cars in hours. California - California scared a lot of people. It sure scared me, ha._

_I was supposed to go there, y’know. I was moving. On my way, actually._

_I’m lucky I didn’t make it there. But I had -_

_..._

_Sorry._

_..._

_No._

_No. I had friends there._

_I had friends there, and they won’t pick up my calls - I think the nearby cell towers are busted, or maybe it’s something completely unrelated. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to them._

_All I know is that I’m talking to myself in my car, pretending like there’s any way this radio thing actually works -_

_…_

_I’m driving again, I’m good on supplies for a week or so. But still, I shouldn’t talk so much. Who knows when I’ll next get water._

_I’ll see you at the dam._

~

Josh is in a hotel somewhere in Bumfuck, Midwest. 

He’s got his important stuff with him, the basics - a laptop, chargers, a week’s worth of clothes he keeps washing in the sink. He doesn’t have his stream equipment. He had told himself he won’t be gone that long.

He doesn’t know if anyone else is staying in the hotel - there’s never anyone in the hallways, and housekeeping hasn’t knocked on his door in days. He makes good use of the deadbolt every night, and the irony of protecting himself from a nonexistent threat makes him want laugh so hard it hurts.

He feels like a ghost, and the world around him feels just as dead.

It’s a strange sort of loneliness he cultivates, sitting silent in his hotel room, listening to the howling wind outside. 

_(Oh God, does the wind howl. He swears he sees twisters, one day; the swirling winds tear a telephone pole from the ground. It smashes into the side of the hotel. The noise it makes makes him physically flinch, but it doesn’t hurt the structure, and it doesn’t hurt him._

_Josh closes his blinds and goes back to bed.)_

His time is mostly spent scrolling through Twitter, occasionally watching his friends stream. He ignores the bad news piling up in his phone. He tells himself he’ll catch up when things settle down.

_(Things do not settle down. The earth keeps shattering. He receives a note from the hotel management - they are shutting down in light of the warnings starting to come through._

_No one comes to evict him.)_

And it’s a guilty sort of loneliness, the day he finally breaks; he listens to his voicemails and his mother tells him over the crackling speaker that they’ve left the country. His stuff is still at the house, should he want any of it. She tells him, begs him, to flee as soon as he can.

He calls her back and it doesn’t go through. He thinks about cell towers going down, and then doesn’t think about them again until much later.

The days go by in a haze of staring at the ceiling and his phone and out the window, watching thunderstorms tear through the cornfields. 

_(He told himself he was still going to visit. He told himself things were fine. It worked - until it didn’t - and he thinks sitting here, stuck in the middle of nowhere by nothing but his own fear, might be just what he deserves.)_

In July, Noah calls him, only once; he’s harried and a little too desperate for Josh to pretend everything is normal.

“Schlatt’s not picking up the fucking phone,” he says. Josh elects not to tell Noah he almost didn’t, either. “Things are real bad, out here. People are getting restless. No consequences for anything anymore, either - neighborhood across from mine burned down the other day.”

“Shit,” Josh says. His mouth is dry. Outside, the sky cracks in two with a flash so bright he has to close his eyes. 

“No kidding.” Noah shuffles around on his end. “I’m going up. Someone’s gotta make sure he’s -” alive, alive, alive, screams the pause - “he’s alright.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Josh says hesitantly. 

“I’m not,” Noah snaps. “It’s been fucking snowing.”

Josh knows that’s not the real issue. The East Coast has been slammed with thunderstorms, too, hurricane-level rains,earthquakes; he’s seen the news reports. He knows crime is off the charts. 

He’s not sure what Noah wants him to say. So he closes his mouth and doesn’t say anything. 

To his credit, Noah waits for a minute before he sighs. ”Good luck, Josh,” he says instead of goodbye. “Maybe I’ll see you in Cali.”

And there’s a nauseating sort of loneliness in the silence he leaves behind.

~

_I saw the dam._

_It was still going, believe it or not. I’m sure it’s the only reason this area had power. I stared at it from above for a while._

_I was going to go down, but -_

_Well, you know._

_California is gone._

_Aftershocks, they say. One of them hit while I was -_

_…_

_The Hoover Dam is gone, now, too. I’m parked by the - the river. The lake. I don’t know._

_It’s - it was -_

_I watched it go. Tons of concrete, just - just crumbled like sand. Water everywhere._

_…_

_I think I’ll go to the Grand Canyon, next._

_…_

_Listeners -_

_..._

_Never mind._

~

The restaurants stop delivering after the roads get too dangerous.

Josh goes grocery shopping when he feels like he’s about to collapse and the fear of starving outgrows the fear of going outside. His car is still there, miraculously. 

The store he manages to drive to is practically deserted; it looks like no one’s been in to restock in a while. Every visit proves his suspicions that no one ever will again. There’s one cashier, the same person every time, and he wonders how long they’ll keep coming to work. 

There’s an understanding between them, he thinks sometimes, when he can no longer brush it off as desperate need for human interaction. Like maybe, if they just keep living, stay put in the same place, the world will stop going forward and apart.

He grabs as much as he can carry off the shelves. Cans of non-perishables, water, some other things - a pocket knife, a first-aid kit.

The cashier never fails to look relieved when he only pulls his credit card out of his jacket pocket.

Day after day he sits, knowing he should be doing something, knowing he can’t. The weather gets worse. It rains bullets against his window and leaves cracks in the glass, thunderstorms threaten to deafen him, lightning sets the fields around him on fire. The wind picks up everything from tree branches to cars, slamming them into anything and everything. 

Josh goes to the store one last time, clears them out of everything useful, deadbolts the door of his hotel room, and waits.

And it’s a howling, screaming sort of loneliness, the end of the world.

~

Near the end of July, Josh sits in his hotel room with his laptop on the bed, and watches in horror with the rest of the world as Boston drowns in the Atlantic. 

He finds out from Charlie, later, that Ted had tried to call him. Josh feels an awful pressure in his throat. 

_Four dropped off the radar_ , Charlie says, and Josh counts them in his head.

Cooper, Travis, Schlatt, Ted.

He can still remember the way the air crackled with Cooper’s voice, he can remember feeling relieved to hear him alive, and he can remember the dead silence that followed California’s cell towers malfunctioning. 

Josh prays it was the cell towers malfunctioning. 

And it’s that phone call, he thinks, that’s driving him up the wall for the first time in days - the worry has caught up to him. He _can’t_ stay here forever.

Noah and Schlatt are both gone, now, but he doesn’t tell Charlie that. The man sounds stressed enough as it is.

He tells Charlie he’s going to California, the decision made as the words leave his mouth. _Maybe I’ll see you in Cali,_ Noah had said. _We’ll see you soon,_ was Cooper’s mantra. 

Outside, the storm rages. More of the building crumbles. The wall starts the crack.

Josh sees his car in the otherwise empty parking lot, miraculously untouched. He thinks long and hard about cell towers and dropping off the radar and getting to California.

“I’ll see you there,” he says, like he can speak it into existence. “Keep in touch.”

He hangs up on Charlie, and starts repacking.

~

_(He’s a third of the way there when the news about California comes through._

_He calls Cooper again. The cell towers, he tells himself when nothing happens, and thinks about their plans and their future and how much he’ll never see again._

_It’s a horrific, empty loneliness, the end of the world, and he sits in his car and sobs.) ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants* josh josh josh josh  
> The timeline might be a little confusing and twisted up so just lmk if that’s the case!


	4. when your head caught flame

New York isn’t doing so fucking hot. 

~

_This is a nice river._

_River? Maybe a creek. Whatever you wanna call it._

_The water’s cold. I don’t trust it enough to drink it, but I think I should fill some bottles just in case. Maybe I can boil it sometime down the road._

_..._

_Well, I made it to the canyon, though I probably should have gotten here a little sooner._

_Since you can’t see, I’ll, uh -_

_There’s some trees, scraggly little things, more like bushes, really. They’re all, uh, uprooted - still pretty. I wonder how tall they were. Kinda looks like, like they’ve been sanded._

_Must have been a hell of a duststorm, huh? Hell of an earthquake. I heard it on the news, couple days ago. California - it fucked up a lot of the landscape. Clouds of dust - I got hit by one, on my way here. It wasn’t bad. Scraped a little paint off my car, nothing serious. Blotted out the sun, though, which was a little, uh, tense. Like Pompeii, ha. If only the Romans could see us now._

_..._

_Pompeii. Remember that song? Maybe when I get back I’ll sing it for you._

_Karaoke._

_.._

_I’m parked alongside the river. Creek. It’s going quite fast._

_The Colorado River, huh? The Grand Canyon. It’s gone, by the way - there’s - there’s just a crack in the ground, now. I mean - it was always a crack in the ground. But now it’s a crack in the ground I can fit one foot on either side of._

_Isn’t that something?_

_Hell of an earthquake._

_..._

_What’s left when you take the canyon and the grand out of the Grand Canyon? Sounds like the setup for a joke._

_What’s left?_

_…_

_Ha._

_..._

_This, apparently._

~

“We need to stop,” Travis says once, spitting dust out of his mouth in Cooper’s peripheral.

He stares out the window in the passenger seat. He speaks quietly, every word treated like a bomb, like if he’s too loud, the dirt below them will take it as a personal offense.

Cooper doesn’t answer, keeps staring straight ahead, pretending he hadn’t heard. 

He feels tense, tired, dirty - he hasn’t taken a shower since last week. He’s only stopped driving to raid convenience stores and sleep for three hours at a time. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. 

Travis breathes shakily beside him - Cooper rather feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in months.

This is fine. If he tunes it out, he can almost convince himself it’s just a day out on the road. On his way to the store. On his way to the skate spot. 

Every time he lets his eyes wander from the dirt road he feels his stomach lurch. 

Around them, the landscape passes by in a blur of red and sand; the same, the same, the same, and so alien it makes his head hurt. Cooper hates it with a flaming, burning passion.

“Did you hear me?” Travis says, venomous despite his quiet tone. “We need to stop again, soon.”

Cooper’s not sure what he hates, exactly. He decides the landscape is a better target for it all than Travis. 

“Did you hear me?” 

It’s almost like a point of pride now, a challenge. How long can he go without thinking? How long can he go without looking away from the road? How long can he go without the awful, awful roaring in his ears? How long can he go before it all crashes down? 

“Cooper!” it’s loud, it rattles him - he finally jumps and the car swerves a little, shaking in tandem with his arms. Still, he doesn’t answer.

“You’re an asshole!” Travis shrills. 

When he risks a quick glance over, he sees Travis has one hand clenched around his seatbelt, the other clawed into the door handle like he’s contemplating jumping out. “You can’t do this forever! I thought you’d at least be able to pull it together, I thought you’d understand, by now!”

Something in him snaps, at that - like any of this is his fault, like he’s he one who -

“I can,” Cooper growls, raspy from disuse, “and you’d do well to shut up, shut the fuck up!”

“The house is gone,” Travis says, bright, all caution abandoned. “It fell into the ground. You saw it. You lost everything.”

They’ve done this before. Travis has done this before, and Cooper has ignored him, and Cooper has fought and fought and fought to stay like this, to stay normal. 

It was easier to pretend when he had a roof over his head. Easier to pretend when his home, the only place he’s ever known, was still above sea level.

He doesn’t want to think about the noise it all made. He hears it echo in his ears anyway.

The dust that winds across the open desert mocks him with the familiar smell of his backyard. The ground trembles with laughter, threatens to open up and take what it failed to get the first time around. 

“We lost everything,” Travis says. “We don’t know where our friends are. We can’t ever go home again. We’re going to die if we don’t stop, soon.”

He doesn’t want it to be over. He doesn’t want to go on. 

“We’re going to die if you can’t do this,” Travis says, and the resignation, the desperation, something in it tells Cooper if he doesn’t do something now he’ll find himself alone in the middle of the desert.

That scares him, and suddenly he has something more frightening than change to be worried about.

(It’s - it’s not instantaneous.)

Cooper’s hands are tight on the steering wheel. He stares straight ahead -

He -

“Please,” Travis says, and it hurts. “Cooper, please.”

(But it happens.)

Cooper moves his foot to the brake. The car stops with a shuddering squeal.

“I’m sorry,” Travis whispers.

“Yeah,” Cooper says, and when he finally breathes again, he finds he can’t stop sobbing.

Travis shuts up and lets him cry while the sun sets on the past. 

~

Schlatt’s ready when the power finally goes out. 

It’s what comes after that really screws him over.

~

_(You good?)_

_(Yeah. Yeah, just thinking.)_

_(Penny for your thoughts, Ted.)_

_(Just -)_

_(...)_

_(It just feels like nothing will be the same.)_

_(Oh.)_

_(Nothing will ever be the same again.)_

_(...)_

_(I don’t know.)_

_(Are you sure about that?)_

_(…)_

_(Nothing and ever are strong words.)_

_(Oh, fuck off.)_

_(Ha.)_

_(...)_

_(You’ve got me, right?)_

_(Unfortunately.)_

_(You’ve got me. That’s the same.)_

_(Yeah.)_

_(...)_

_(Yeah, Connor. Thanks.)_

_(Of course.)_

_(...)_

_(...)_

_(Hey, you sentimental fuck. Eyes on the road.)_

~

The power goes out around the same time Boston does. 

Schlatt’s still reeling from the broadcast announcement. His TV shines bright on his face. He thinks for a second he might be shaking. Boston is underwater, and he blinks, and painted on the inside of his eyelids is a burning bloody red.

( _Get your shit together_ , he laughs over the phone in June. 

Ted laughs back. Schlatt can hear the rain pounding on his windows, even over the speaker. Ted comments on it, a little too warily for someone of his confidence.

What does it matter? It’s raining in New York, too. _Did you know that they’re forecasting snow?_ )

And it's there, sitting on his bed, wishing he could get the sound of rushing water out of his head, that he goes blind in an instant.

The lights don’t even flicker in warning before the world vanishes. It’s the middle of the night, which only makes the contrast worse - the electrical hum he’s learned to filter out disappears and he’s left gasping in its absence. 

It’s strange. 

For the first time in his life, New York is utterly silent.

Schlatt sits there for what must be an hour, he doesn’t know, he wasn’t wearing his watch when this all went down and it’s pointless to try and look for it in the dark. He can’t move - he’s known this would happen for weeks, it’s not like he’s surprised - but his brain is frozen, his limbs feel like they weigh tons.

He sits for an hour and the world stands still - he has nothing, but he hasn’t quite lost anything, and he exists peacefully in the dark and the chilly, eerie silence.

It gets cold pretty fast, what with the heating turned off. He starts to shiver. Outside, someone screams, glass shatters. It’s enough to propel him into action. 

Schlatt was ready for this. It doesn’t make the catalyst any easier to handle.

He gathers all the sweatshirts he owns and layers them on. He finds every blanket in his apartment, throws them on his bed. His makeshift pantry is relocated from around his fridge to the foot of the bed frame. There’s not that much left in his fridge, but he forces himself to eat an apple - what's in there won’t last forever, not even in this cold.

He locks his door. Shoves his desk in front of it. Takes his fridge and manages to push it in front of his window. Crime was bad before the power went out - he can only imagine what will happen now. 

It’s cold. It’s cold. Schlatt hunkers down under a blanket, presses into the corner, tells himself he’s shaking from the chill. He’s almost glad it’s dark, for it means he can’t see his breath misting in front of his face.

And he sits, and he waits - for what, a savior? An end? He feels -

He feels alone. 

He is alone.

~

_I don’t know what to do, now._

_I’ve heard on the other stations Colorado is slated to be safe. The Rockies just got taller. Aftershocks aren’t reaching them. I don’t know if it’s true, but they’re alive enough to broadcast, so there’s gotta be something there, right?_

_I’ll become a hermit._

_Live in the Rockies._

_Maybe I’ll be able to get Twitter up, again, if I get there._

_Set up a show. A regular show! I can tell people what’s going on, uh, I can -_

_…_

_I’m tired._

_…_

_The Grand Canyon. Just gone. That’s kinda fucked up, don’t you think? I mean, that’s eons of - of work, of history. Compressed into a sidewalk crack._

_And the Hoover Dam. Do you know how loud that was? I almost -_

_The ground was shaking pretty hard. I thought -_

_…_

_Hey, chat - I mean, listeners, ha. Old habits die hard._

_Chat._

_Anyone remember Twitch? I did that. Charlie Dalgleish. Mr. Slimecicle. I did that. Is YouTube still up? Could I watch my stuff? Imagine._

_Imagine._

_..._

_What an antediluvian pastime. Ha._

_Do you get it?_

_Boston -_

_..._

_That wasn’t funny. I’m sorry._

_..._

_I think I’m -_

_I think I’m a little too tired._

_The Rockies, listeners. I’ll see you there._

_…_

_Or I won’t._

~

Eventually, Schlatt gets restless. 

There’s more noise now, shouts and things shattering. New York lurches back into a chaotic motion. 

Schlatt decides he should get up.

His laptop and phone, rendered useless, are shoved into a backpack along with some chargers. For an emergency, he thinks, and throws a few granola bars in it. Some clothes, a water bottle, whatever medical supplies he can find in his bathroom.

When he’s down to the last item, he stops -

Thinks about it -

And drops in the loaded gun, to top it all off.

His hand doesn’t leave the zipper, not even when he sits back down.

He doesn’t sleep, that night.

~

_(Where are we going, Connor?)_

_(The Rockies.)_

_(That’s pretty far away.)_

_(You heard them, on the radio. Besides. We can’t stay here. Texas is - well.)_

_(What if they’re wrong?)_

_(It’s our best bet, Ted.)_

_(Our best bet. Don’t you have a plan?)_

_(We’re alive, aren’t we? That’s my fucking plan.)_

_(...)_

_(...)_

_(I’m sorry. You - I’m sorry, okay?)_

_(Yeah.)_

_(Turn the radio back on?)_

_(Alright.)_

_(...)_

_(What program is this?)_

_(Don’t know.)_

_(Oh, God. He’s at the dam. I wonder if he saw it -)_

_(Fucking hell, man, he saw it go down.)_

_(...)_

_(I could swear -)_

_(Yeah.)_

_(That sounds just like Charlie.)_

_(...)_

_(...)_

_(Wouldn’t that be something?)_

_(Yeah.)_

_(...)_

_(Shit, Connor. That sounds just like Charlie.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> funny formatting go brr


	5. explosions on t.v.

He is in a car at the end of the world, except the world hasn’t ended. 

Funny, how that works out. Funny, how things go on.

He is in a car at the end of the world, but there’s still gas stations, and there’s still money to hand to the shaking girl behind the register, and there’s plastic and neon lights and energy drinks in a broken refrigerator unit. 

He is in a car at the end of the world, and there’s no one in the passenger seat, was there ever? The world is ended and there are sometimes other people, but to him they may as well be ghosts; the world is ended and he’s gone with it and time moves forward anyway.

He is in a car at the end of the world but the world hasn’t ended, there are people on the radio who say so, and there is one person in particular on the radio, and there is a new tallest mountain range in the world. 

He is in a car at the end of the world, and he can scroll through Twitter but he can’t call his mom, and the world has ended except it hasn’t, except nothing will ever be the same and maybe the fact that the world is irrevocably different is the same as it ending.

He is in a car at the end of the world. California is gone. New York is a black hole. Boston is underwater. He is in a car at the end of the world, and he hasn’t felt anything but lonely in a long time. He is in a car at the end of the world and they say there’s a new one in the Rockies. 

Funny, how things work out.

~

“I think we should go north,” Travis says to him.

“Point north,” Cooper grumbles, head in his arms on the diner table. After driving for almost seventeen hours straight, he’s exhausted.

Travis thinks about it and raises a finger towards the ceiling. Cooper scoffs. “Like I thought, dumbass. We need more than a vague direction.”

“Well,” Travis says, “maybe we can ask the waitress.”

“If she knew a place to go, she wouldn’t be here.” Cooper raises his head long enough to stare around the deserted Nevada diner. 

Theirs is the only car in the parking lot. There’s only three people working, but Travis and Cooper are the only customers they’ve had in four days, they said. Too many fucking ‘only’s. Their eyes are all dark and hopeless. It reminds Cooper of the end of the world video games had talked about, and he thinks they’d vastly overestimated humanity’s resolve. 

But, hey. At least the food was good. 

“You don’t know that,” Travis points out. “Maybe they don’t want to leave.”

_Like you,_ he doesn’t say. Cooper thinks it over. 

“Maybe,” he relents. “But you’re doing the talking. And get better directions than ‘north’.”

“Excuse me,” Travis calls. Cooper doesn’t know how he manages to sound so normal. He buries his face back into his arms, leaving one eye open to judge the interaction. 

The waitress makes a beeline for them, smile almost relieved. “What can I do for you boys?”

“We’re wondering if you know anywhere safe,” Travis says. “We need a place to go.”

Her expression falters. “I see.”

“I told him I thought we should go north,” Travis says.

“Stop fucking saying north,” Cooper mutters into his hoodie sleeve, too tired to care what the waitress thinks of him. He knows he must look pitiful, what with his hair greasy and too long and sprawling himself practically asleep on the table.

“North is right, in a way,” she says. “We listen to the radio - they’re saying there are safe places in Colorado. I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more specific.”

“No problem, that helps,” Travis says, and then after a moment, “would you ever go to Colorado?”

Cooper watches her think it over and recognizes the sad, resigned set of her eyes. “No, dear. I don’t think I would.”

“Okay,” Travis says, sounding sad this time. “Thanks. I hope you have a good day.”

Cooper digs in his pocket for his wallet, trying to sniff the tired out of his lungs as he pulls out a ten dollar bill. “‘S’all I’ve got,” he mumbles to the waitress, hoping she takes it, hoping it’s enough. 

“Plenty.” She takes it gently, staring one second too long at the shaking in Cooper’s hands. “Safe drive, dears,” she says, and like she absolutely cannot take it anymore, bolts into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Travis calls again, futilely. 

“We should go,” Cooper says.

“I’m driving “ Travis says.

“You’re not,” Cooper says. He yawns. He’s so tired.

“You’re already asleep,” Travis says, stupidly waving his hands in front of Cooper’s face. “Oooooooo. You’ll let me drive.”

“No,” Cooper says. Travis refuses to listen and hauls him out of the booth; in the blink of an eye, Cooper finds himself stretched out in the backseat of the car. “The fuck?”

“We’ll be fine! I know enough about how to make it move.”

“It’s stopping I’m worried about,” Cooper protests.

“Ooooooo,” Travis says, and turns the key. “You’re shutting up and letting me concentrate, now.”

“I’m going to die,” Cooper mutters. At least he’ll go out in his sleep.

~

Noah’s always been good at going unnoticed. This is useful in New York.

It’s freezing, despite being the middle of the day. Snow filters down on his head. He clutches his inadequate jacket tighter to him and keeps his back straight, head up. Around him, a mere fraction of New York’s usual population bustles aimlessly by. The smart ones hold their keys between their fingers. The desperate ones cling to worse. 

Noah’s hands are empty, clenched in his pockets. Nobody bothers him. This is a mercy, and he knows better than to question it.

Schlatt’s apartment building is dark, the front door standing wide open, and Noah wonders if he has the wrong address. He knows better than to try calling. Instead, he wastes precious phone battery by flicking on the flashlight and steps over the threshold.

Three flights of stairs later, he’s in front of Schlatt’s door. He almost doesn’t knock.

What are the odds? What are the chances he’s still here? Anyone with any common sense would’ve skipped the fuck out of New York - hell, out of North America - months ago. 

Well, Noah lies to himself, Schlatt’s never been one for common sense. And neither is he, apparently. He’s driven across the state line, walked into the heart of a city that seems keen on letting no one leave it, all on the off chance Schlatt’s somehow still here. What else can he do? Boston’s underwater. California shakes in its socket. The Earth rips itself to pieces, and no one picks up the phone anymore.

So Noah raises a fist to the wood that’s already splintering, and raps three times in short succession. 

Nothing answers him, save a scuffle so soft he almost misses it. It spikes the hair on the back of his neck. He thinks it came from inside, but he turns his head to look behind him anyway. 

“Schlatt,” he calls, wincing at how loud his own voice sounds in the empty hall. “It’s Noah.”

Again, nothing, but - is he hallucinating? Are the walls creaking? Was that the click of a lock?

“It’s Noah,” he says again. “Open up.”

Someone else’s breathing echoes in the hallway. Noah clamps his lips shut and doesn’t dare inhale. Someone else is here. Someone else is here. It’s everything he can do to stay rooted to the floor.

“Schlatt,” he says, too quietly to be of any use.

Third time’s the charm, sneers something with no good intentions, and the door in front of him flies open. 

For one second, Noah’s afraid. The sudden movement startles him. His hands start to leave his sides. The next second he registers that someone’s behind the door - he can see their white hoodie and jeans, bare feet against the wood grain. Disconnectedly, Noah wonders what the chances are that he’d run into a stranger wearing Slimecicle merch.

But what really catches his attention, after three whole seconds of standing with his hands hovering in the air, is the gun aimed directly between his eyes.

“Don’t,” comes a voice rusty with disuse, low and scraping, horribly familiar.

“Woah,” Noah stutters impulsively, and backs up into the opposite wall. 

The gun lowers just enough for the man’s face to come into view. His eyes are dark and wild, tangled hair kept down by a baseball cap, badly trimmed facial hair, bony, crooked fingers around the trigger, mouth open halfway through a threat.

Noah’s just as frozen as the guy looks. He thinks he must be really out of it, because despite the fact that common sense makes it pretty plausible Schlatt would be the one to inhabit his own apartment, it still feels like a miracle to see him standing here.

“No,” Schlatt says, almost a question. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot,” Noah says, feeling lightheaded. 

The gun clatters to the floor. Schlatt takes a step out of the apartment for what must be the first time since July, and another, and another, until he’s almost nose to nose with Noah. 

“How the hell,” Schlatt breathes, hand coming up to poke his chest. 

“I walked a long way,” Noah says. 

“You fucking bastard,” Schlatt says, and then he collapses into Noah’s arms and starts to cry.

~

_(Hey, cheer up. We’re almost there.)_

_(No, we’re not.)_

_(...)_

_(...)_

_(Turn on the headlights, would you?)_

_(No, I won’t.)_

_(...)_

_(...)_

_(Why’re you bitchy today, Ted?)_

_(I’m not bitchy.)_

_(If you’re worried about another sinkhole -)_

_(I’m not.)_

_(Listen, I know you’re tired, I am too -)_

_(Shut up, would you, Connor? Shut up.)_

_(...)_

_(...)_

_(Do you want the radio?)_

_(What did I just fucking say?)_

_(…)_

_(…)_

_(…)_

_(Yes.)_

~

_Good...Mythical Morning, listeners! It’s your host, Charlie, coming at you from day two of holing up in New Denver._

_Everyone here was nice enough to let me stay in this old cabin. Some people even recognized me from the radio. This little project of mine made it further than I thought, huh? It was strange. I was so sure nothing was getting out._

_Anyway, my cabin’s a little far from the town itself, but that’s alright. They’re planning to expand once they make sure they have a way to regrow their lumber supply. There’s running water and food left over, plus some buildings still have electricity, even. Things are looking up._

_I’m continuing the show, despite having people to talk to now. They told me other stations are playing it back. It’s weird to think about, that people are so desperate for stuff like this, still._

_Or maybe it makes sense. Yeah, no, never mind. It makes sense._

_The Rockies, listeners. Next time I’ll try to give out a list of safe places. I guess some people heard me talking, and it helped._

_Further than I thought, huh?_

~

There is a ghost on his radio at the end of the world, except it hasn’t ended, and Josh thinks for the first time in a long time maybe he hasn’t, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends my pre-written shit, here begins the Wait while I procrastinate writing a new chapter,
> 
> Man! I do not miss writing multi-chapter works but thankfully this one has a definite end. Hopefully I can get my ass in gear and it won’t be a month of waiting yikes

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [all the fear and the fire of the end of the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969431) by [Darkyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkyy/pseuds/Darkyy)
  * [dream sweet in sea major](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786886) by Anonymous 




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